and a loving heart.

But Carry was comforted when her sister's arms were around her. "They
asked me if I was bad," she said, "and I thought I should a' died,
and I never answered them a word,--and at last they let me go."
When Fanny inquired whether their father had been kind to her, she
declared that he had been "main kind." "But, oh, Fanny! if he'd only
say a word, it would warm one's heart; wouldn't it?"

On the following evening news reached Bullhampton that the Grinder
had been convicted and sentenced to death, but that Lawrence Acorn
had been acquitted. The judge, in his summing up, had shown that
certain evidence which applied to the Grinder had not applied to his
comrade in the dock, and the jury had been willing to take any excuse
for saving one man from the halter.

CHAPTER LXX.

THE FATE OF THE PUDDLEHAMITES.

Fenwick and Gilmore breakfasted together on the morning that the
former left London for Bullhampton; and by that time the Vicar had
assured himself that it would be quite impossible to induce his
friend to go back to his home. "I shall turn up after some years if
I live," said the Squire; "and I suppose I shan't think so much about
it then; but for the present I will not go to the place."

He authorised Fenwick to do what he pleased about the house and
the gardens, and promised to give instructions as to the sale of
his horses. If the whole place were not let, the bailiff might, he
suggested, carry on the farm himself. When he was urged as to his
duty, he again answered by his illustration of the man without a leg.
"It may be all very true," he said, "that a man ought to walk, but if
you cut off his leg he can't walk." Fenwick at last found that there
was nothing more to be said, and he was constrained to take his
leave.

"May I tell her that you forgive her?" the Vicar asked, as they were
walking together up and down the station in the Waterloo Road.

"She will not care a brass farthing for my forgiveness," said
Gilmore.

"You wrong her there. I am sure that nothing would give her so much
comfort as such a message."

Gilmore walked half the length of the platform before he replied.
"What is the good of telling a lie about it?"--he said, at last.

"I certainly would not tell a lie."

"Then I can't say that I forgive her. How is a man to forgive such
treatment? If I said that I did, you wouldn't believe me. I will keep
out of her way, and that will be better for her than forgivin